


when we get old, will we regret this?

by rosewitchx



Series: pete and aaron vs the world [8]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Canonical Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Consent, Gay Rights, Gun Violence, Identity Reveal, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Mutant Peter Parker, Oop, Secret Relationship, Sexy Times, Slurs, Star-crossed, YEAH. WE DOIN THIS, You Know Who Dies, in which aaron has superpowers and also he fucks his way to the top, mutant aaron, theyre baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 12:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewitchx/pseuds/rosewitchx
Summary: ever since he can remember, aaron’s always been a bit too lucky.--or, i gave aaron secret superpowers.





	when we get old, will we regret this?

**Author's Note:**

> title: are you bored yet? by wallows  
> ive been working on this one for A WHILE thanks to my wife and max for helping me out im so baby  
> happy pride this isnt the last of this series but im getting close!

ever since he can remember, aaron’s always been a bit too lucky. 

it wasn’t just a fortunate streak of good things happening over and over again. no, this goes beyond just a lucky strike: he remembers quite clearly hiding with his brother inside an alleyway, stinking of fresh paint, in the dead of the night, as policemen looked for them, and wishing  _ please don’t see us _ just as a cop flashed a light at them — and then proceeded to completely ignore them. they were thirteen and fifteen at the time, and though jeff had chalked it up to a miracle, aaron knew already it wasn’t that simple, from the way he’d suddenly felt more drained after thinking those words to the strange twinkle in the cop’s eyes as he glanced them over. 

from that point on he’d begun trying his hand.  _ it would be nice if i passed this test i didn’t study for  _ translated into a b;  _ please let jeff forget he saw me smoking  _ became another safe night without his dad’s scolding;  _ it would be so lucky if i got the internship at alchemax  _ became a full-time job. maybe not  _ the  _ job he would’ve preferred, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

he’s always been a bit too lucky, and he’s surprised it doesn’t show. 

 

a job interview at an immaculate office. the man behind the desk towers above him, and smiles. “you’re talented,” he says. “quiet. strong.  _ persuasive. _ ”

“i’m just  _ lucky,  _ sir.”

“well, luck or no luck, we want you.”

“i’m guessing i can’t back out of this.”

“no.”

“well, that’s just so fortunate of me.”

 

there’s stealth, alright, and then there’s what aaron can do. 

when he wants to, his footsteps are unnervingly light. when he wants to, fate bends to his every whim. 

when he wants to, he can sneak up on someone, knife in hand, and then—

what aaron can do, it feels limitless, sometimes. 

 

he learns soon enough: there’s a difference between asking and demanding.

when he asks fate to help him, it doesn’t  _ always  _ work. it’s like tossing a coin, but the coin spins on the ground longer because you blow air on it. when he orders fate to do something, it will absolutely happen, no questions asked. 

the problem with that second option is that he’s always so tired afterwards. 

he doesn’t know why. the same goes with healing, hurting: he gets a bullet shot thru his shoulder once and it closes off instantly, but he’s moving around like he needs a shot of espresso afterwards. he guesses it’s retribution: you need to give something to get something in exchange. 

so when he’s looming above johnny storm, barely thinking, he has a choice to make. it’s easy enough: he trades off tomorrow’s energy for tonight’s fun. 

his eyes glimmer violet and he dives in, touch-starved. storm is a good boy, but aaron prides himself in his bad guy reputation. there’s not much left of him when he’s finished ravishing him, disheveled on the bed — then, as he leans to the side johnny holds his hand and asks him to drown again. 

there’s a difference between asking and demanding, but he says  _ fuck it  _ as he tells fate (and johnny) to suck his—

 

his nephew is born and he begs the stars to let him see him. his powers are a fickle thing. fortune favors the bold, but there’s just some things good luck alone can’t manage. if the odds aren’t in his favor, often times they just neutralize the situation: not good, but not bad either. 

jeff looks at his brother’s eyes and freezes. aaron almost regrets revealing himself when his older brother calls him a  _ mutant,  _ like those people on tv.

“i’m not,” he tries to say, but even he seems to know it’s a blatant lie.

“you  _ saved  _ her,” jeff breathes out. “she wasn’t— you held her hand and suddenly she was breathing again, i saw your eyes, aaron.”

aaron tries to remain calm. “are you gonna out me?”

“what? no,” jeff quickly says. “of course not. i just— i need time. to think.”

not good, but not bad either.

 

spider-man is the most annoying guy he’s ever met. 

not only does he directly oppose fisk — therefore opposing aaron — but he also, somehow, is apparently immune to his powers. and the blame always ends up pinned on aaron when this happens. it’s alright, he guesses, picking himself up from the wreckage of whatever operation spidey just ruined, it’s cool.

(he swears he’ll get that idiot killed himself someday.)

 

“fisk can’t know,” lincoln tells him, breathing harsh against his ear. it’s a bit concerning, the panic behind his voice, especially when it’s unprompted like this, so aaron decides to pause. 

“can’t know what?” 

lin feels cold to the touch. he always does, mind you, but this is different, somehow. “about this,” he says, hesitant. “about  _ you _ .”

“it’s literally not work related.”

“he won’t care, davis.”

aaron kisses the man and mutters against his skin, and revels when the man shudders underneath his lips. “i’ll just tell fate to make him forget it or something. don’t worry.”

it takes lonnie a moment to formulate an answer, and aaron can’t help but thrive in the silent gasps. “you’re— you’re playing with  _ fire. _ ”

“maybe so,” aaron says. “guess i’m lucky.”

lin groans in annoyance before aaron proceeds to wreck him. 

 

the stars let him have his way, sometimes: rio and jeff, going out on a date, when the babysitter cancels. they drive little miles up to his place and he doesn’t miss the way jeff hesitates when he carries miles and spins him around. miles won’t fall from grace, despite what jeff might think: he’s a lucky kid, with the world’s luckiest uncle. 

once he does get hurt, however. it’s normal with children, he’s been told, but it doesn’t make miles’ crying over scraped knees any easier to bear. he’s sobbing unconsolable on his couch as aaron tries to soothe him, and little six-year-old miles can’t fathom the idea of his bloodied knees just healing. 

so he has an idea. probably not his smartest, since he’s never  _ tried  _ this before, but it’s worth it, right?

he smiles, leans in, and kisses his nephew’s knees, thinking  _ heal them.  _ “there,” he says, after doing both knees, “all fixed.”

miles squeals, staring at his bare legs. “they’re gone!,” he giggles. and then: “uncle aaron, your eyes!”

aaron blinks the glimmer and the sudden exhaustion away and grins nervously.  _ it worked. it worked _ . “this is our secret, okay?,” he says. “you can’t tell anyone about the magic.”

“magic!”

“ _ promise me,  _ miles.” and his eyes twinkle violet again, and moments later his nephew raises his pinky and smiles toothless.

“pinky promise!,” he chirps. 

aaron smiles and intertwines their little fingers. “alright, lil guy,” he says, “it’s nap time.”

the stars let him have his way, sometimes. 

 

a chance encounter, almost by fate.

aaron looks at his hands.

“you didn’t turn me in.”

spidey, still with his mask on, shakes his head. “no.”

“why?”

“i don’t know.”

“yes you do,” aaron says. his whole body is sore. he pats gingerly at his bandaged torso and bites his lip: spider-man must know, right? “you  _ saw. _ ”

the bandages are bloody but there’s no wound underneath them, not anymore.

“i thought you’d die,” spider-man says. “but you started healing, and— if i turned you in i’d have a lot to explain, and you’d be—” he breathes quickly, and something in aaron tells him, instinctively, he’s scared. scared  _ of  _ him? “you know what they do to guys like us in prison.”

  1. scared _for_ him. “so you’re mutant too?”



“yeah,” spider-man says after a pause. “not in the way that you think. but it’s all the same to them.” and aaron knows this so well, doesn’t he. it’s kingpin threatening to let his secret out if he betrays him ( _ is this betrayal,  _ he thinks,  _ is this my doom _ ); it’s jeff rarely letting him see miles. 

“so now what,” aaron says after a while. “you saw my face. what are you gonna do?”

“i don’t know,” he replies.

“well, you gotta  _ do  _ something.”

spider-man paces his living room, then pauses. looks at aaron and takes in a deep breath.

aaron can’t say he’s surprised when the man before him takes off his mask, but the thing is that spider-man is crying, maskless before him for the first time, and the first thing aaron can think of is how pretty he looks not  _ despite  _ this, but  _ because  _ of it.  _ movie star crying,  _ he thinks. 

“i’m peter,” spider-man says, voice incredibly steady despite… you know, all the sobbing he’s quietly doing. is he really this empathetic? “what’s your name?”

it’s a coin toss.

“aaron,” he replies.

 

“i know it’s sudden,” liv says, “but mr. fisk wants his collider ready as soon as possible. it will take years to plan it, but i’m sure with our combined strengths, we can manage it.”

aaron rolls his eyes. across the meeting table, maximus is almost asleep. 

“olivia, we get it. we’ll keep it quiet. is that all.”

“you’re so mean to me sometimes, aaron.” her eyes darken dangerously, but he doesn’t give a single shit. what is she gonna do, science him to death? “you wouldn’t like me when i’m—“

“octavius,” lin interrupts her. “is this really necessary?”

“ugh. fine. that’s all. you guys can go.”

maximus catches him by the restroom and slams him against a wall. “ _ estoy aburrido, _ ” he says, though aaron doesn’t know what that means. “entertain me.”

“here?” aaron is… hmm. “not exactly comfortable.”  _ dangerous,  _ his brain supplies. his senses are always in alert in alchemax. if anyone finds out…

“who gives a shit about comfort,” maximus says, pointing at his legs. “you know what i want,  _ maricón. _ ”

“what does that mean?”

“i’ll tell you later.”

“alright,” aaron says, and his eyes gleam violet as their lips merge. 

 

it means a bad word, aaron learns a while later. 

 

the prowler stands, silent, atop new york’s skyline. he listens intently through his headset as shield’s strike team raids an apartment. the city is bustling with life just a bit after dusk, but aaron leans against the shadows. 

silently, he’s thankful he’s not the one being raided, even if he’d never admit that particular fear of his out loud. lately, these are becoming more and more frequent. and all he can do against them is hope that no one will rat him out. 

if he’s lucky, maybe, he’ll die with no one knowing. 

“ _ prowler, _ ” a voice comes in. “ _ fisk is looking for you. _ ”

aaron moves with the dark, but his eyes light up the night:  _ it would be very lucky,  _ he thinks,  _ if all of my secrets died with me.  _

 

“okay,” aaron tells himself, staring into the mirror. he’s so nervous. why is he so nervous? he gathers his energies and pronounces himself, his one wish for the night, harder than he’s ever wished  _ anything _ : “it would be so,  _ so  _ lucky if peter had a good time tonight. please let peter have a good time.”

he feels his energy draining just a bit, then some more; he sees his eyes shimmer lilac in his reflection, and knows, even now, it might just be a fifty/fifty. 

“you don’t need to do that,” peter says, and aaron jerks away from the door. 

“shit,” aaron says. “has anyone ever told you you’re like a ninja or some shit?”

“look who’s talking,” peter smiles.  _ he’s so pretty,  _ aaron thinks.  _ oh no. _ “your power doesn’t work on me.”

aaron’s brain takes a break from his gay crisis to process this. “it doesn’t?”

“you tried it on our first date,” pete smiles. “you spilled your drink and tried to get me to forget, and you  _ thought  _ it worked, but it didn’t.”

aaron feels it as his face gets hotter and hotter. he tries to play it off, as always, by laughing. “i mean, it doesn’t  _ always  _ work…”

“with me,” peter rectifies. “i happen to be a very unlucky person, sweetheart.”

_ sweetheart.  _ the pet name makes his heart go insane. “i’m— you know i wanna give you  _ the _ best time, right?”

“you don’t have to do that though.” aaron swears peter’s smile could light up a whole room if he wanted to. he steps a little closer, cups aaron’s face between his soft hands, and then whispers, “i just need  _ you _ .”

aaron smiles and leans in for the kiss, and soon they’re panting against the wall, against each other. “come on, man,” pete says. “let’s go to bed.”

by the time he makes it to his room, peter’s clothes are already scattered on the floor. he kicks off his pants, pulls off his shirt, and crawls onto the bed; for a moment he forgets about fate or misfortune and just creeps his way up to pete’s lips. 

“you’re adorable,” aaron whispers. peter snorts and he can’t help but feel his face heating up again. 

“that’s so sappy, man,” peter laughs. “come on.”

“i’m out here, trying to be romantic for you, and you laugh at me?” peter can’t stop giggling and the way it rings has to be the most beautiful sound in the universe. 

aaron ends up joining in, and they merge into a breathless kiss, and aaron has never felt this light before. 

“i love you,” he thinks he says, though it’s not too clear to him. “i love you,” he repeats as peter gets on top of him, running hands over his torso, lower and lower, until he finds himself nested in between his nemesis’ legs. 

“wouldn’t it be so lucky if  _ you  _ had fun tonight too?,” peter smiles, tugging at his briefs and managing to send aaron’s heart racing even faster than before. 

aaron doesn’t have to resist the urge to snark at him: there’s more pressing matters at hand, particularly his dick in between peter’s. “oh,” he breathes out. “yes.”

pete’s touch is gentle, but not soft, and soon aaron’s struggling to keep his voice in. peter decidedly does  _ not _ have this problem; he’s  _ very  _ vocal, singing his praises, especially when he takes him into his mouth and aaron’s thoughts are clouded by lust so fast it gives him whiplash. he swirls his tongue around, moaning as he takes him in, and aaron can’t decide between closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling or keeping them wide open just so he can devour the sight of new york’s sweetheart getting him off. 

peter pops off for a moment, catching his breath, and looks up at aaron. “look at me, baby,” he asks before resuming, and his heartbeat quickens. so aaron does. 

he’s looking straight into his eyes, his dick in his pretty mouth.  _ god,  _ aaron thinks. his hair is so messy, and aaron can barely reach down and hold him steady with it. through the haze, he spots peter rubbing himself over his boxers, so completely focused in his current task, and every single little pleasured hum he lets out sends shivers through aaron. “shit,” he groans. “you’re doing so good, man.” peter’s lips curl up into a smile, somehow. (aaron wants to see him writhe, cry, beg, he’s wanted it for years—)

peter finally pulls out (thankfully; aaron can beg the stars, but he doesn’t think he can stop the inevitable, not in this case) and aaron pushes him down on the bed, his knees up. pete looks at him in anticipation as aaron pulls down his underwear and takes off his own.

_ he’s so fucking beautiful,  _ aaron thinks, dismayed. he blushes down to his shoulders. he’s shaped like a friend and like a hero of legend at the same time. and he’s looking at him, eyes wide open, lips barely parted, his for the taking. he shuffles underneath him, smiles gently, and aaron knows he’s dooming them both by doing this.

he falls down and kisses him again. peter takes him in, his hands cupping his face as they merge, and aaron feels him jolt underneath him when his knee brushes in between his thighs. they part for a moment and peter bites his lip. “sorry,” he says, nervous. “it’s— it’s been a while.”

“hey,” aaron says. he leans forward again; peter whimpers and aaron can feel him stilling himself against his leg. “it’s okay. this is for you.”

“oh,” peter breathes, tense. “will you— can you move,” he asks, then. when aaron complies, the blonde lets out a satisfied hum. “like that.  _ oh _ .”

“you look so good,” aaron blurts out. peter blinks at him and then laughs gently. “what?”

“oookay, davis.”

“oh, shut up.”

pete tilts his head, amused. "make me."

aaron kisses him one more time, and it feels as heavy as wind and light as the ocean on his shoulders. every time their lips meet it’s as if he’s drowning in peter, and he wouldn’t mind falling from grace if peter was there to catch him at the bottom. 

(who’s he kidding, he’s fallen from grace years ago, and all he’s doing is dragging peter down with him—)

“focus on me,” peter says, grinding against his knee. “i’m right here, darling.”

“okay,” aaron replies. he moves away for a moment, and when he comes back, he brings a bottle of lube and condoms with him, and peter breathes in. his legs split apart as aaron sinks in, his lips brushing against peter’s body. “tease,” peter calls him. aaron laughs. peter melts at the sound — and comes back together, frozen in time and tense as a statue, when a finger sinks itself into him. 

they don’t speak for a while; aaron would rather take in the spectacle, the tiny pleasured cries pete tries so hard to quiet down when he bites down on his cheek, now suddenly embarrassed, the way his expression twists when he adds a second, third finger, thrusting in and out gently, working their way in.

when aaron tries adding a fourth, peter breathes in heavily. “i can’t—,” he says, giving aaron pause. and then: “i want  _ you. _ ”

aaron looks at him. nods. 

the condom slides in and aaron looms over his sworn enemy, over the man he— the man he loves. the nervous flutter returns to his chest, and he steadies himself: “may i?,” he asks, because he’s a supervillain, not an asshole. 

“yes,” peter breathes, looking like a movie star, like a model, like a prince, like an angel, and aaron wonders why he ever was so afraid of this. “always.”

he comes in gently, even knowing peter can take anything he can give him, and the blonde squeaks, hands gripping his arms so strongly he’ll probably have to wear long sleeves to work the next day. the sensation overwhelms aaron, but not any more than the  _ look  _ of absolute bliss painted onto pete’s expression. “shit,” he mutters, and peter huffs out a strained laugh. he readies himself. “you  _ ready _ ,” he asks again. 

the instant peter nods he starts moving. peter can’t keep quiet any longer, but he doesn’t have to: aaron muffles his moans when he presses his mouth against his roughly, thrusting deeper and deeper at a steady pace. 

“ _ aaron _ ,” peter gasps against his lips, right before a heavy tremor shakes him. he squirms underneath him, against his own body, looking for an even faster release. “faster.  _ please. _ ”

“someone’s feeling needy,” aaron chuckles, voice hoarse. he picks up the speed and peter tenses all around him, the low thuds echoing through aaron’s room, and suddenly aaron’s thankful his neighbor’s on vacation. he’d hate it if  _ anyone  _ were to listen to this. (“only you,” peter gasps, after aaron asks months later, begging for release, “only for you.”)

“darling—” and peter’s voice sounds so strange, now, unlike anything he’s ever heard before, not from johnny or max or lonnie or any of the heartless flickers he’d met on his bed, and he loves the way peter’s face scrunches up, “—please, i’m—“

aaron feels like he’s reached heaven. the fire spreads through him, and suddenly he can’t stop, can’t hold back; his hands grip against peter’s shoulders and he feels himself come undone. “ _ fuck! _ ,” he gasps and it happens. 

he thrusts his way through the orgasm and it isn’t long before pete is crying out as he lets go. they still together, breathing heavy against each other, until peter sighs, relieved, and aaron slides out with a gentle move.

“that was—“

peter nods, eyes closed. “yeah.”

“did we just do that.”

“yep.”

“if fisk finds out—”

“i know, i know.”

“—you’re a dead man walking, you know that?”

“maybe so.” peter leans on the bed as aaron climbs back in, condom discarded. “this is probably the single most dangerous and stupid thing i’ve ever done.”

“how fortunate of you then.” pete snorts. 

“idiot.” he looks at the window; outside, the night is calling. he sinks deeper into the bed, sighs, and stretches. “okay. this is gonna be the least fun patrol of my life.”

“you don’t have to go today,” aaron says. pete rolls back into his arms and aaron feels whole. he’s so tired, but for once, it’s the good kind. 

“no, i really have to,” peter insists, but he sounds unconvinced. and he keeps leaning in closer and closer to his doom. but he stands up, anyway, and something lights up in aaron’s chest. “i know you wanna distract me from kingpin. that’s not going to work.”

“man, he doesn’t even  _ know  _ i’m here. i thought that was obvious. besides,” aaron says, leaning on his side, “lonnie and max can handle you just fine.”

“can they?,” peter smirks. 

“well, maybe not  _ as  _ fine.” 

“so humble of you.” peter starts walking away from the bed, to pick up his clothes. but then—

“pete.”

without thinking, he reaches for peter’s wrist and dooms himself. peter looks back at him, slightly surprised, and smiles. “yeah?”

(he’s begging _ babe, stay, stay, stay _ )

“wouldn’t it be so lucky,” he starts, but his eyes aren’t shining, “if you stayed tonight?”

peter doesn’t move, even after aaron lets go. 

“i can’t say no to you, dammit,” he sighs, and climbs back into bed. 

 

“won’t you wait for him?,” aunt may asks him.

aaron wants to say he will. even as he places down an unconscious peter on her couch, even as he readjusts the mask on his own face. but he knows it would be a lie. so he doesn’t say anything at all.

may isn’t an idiot. he knows this. everyone knows this. and he doesn’t  _ know  _ what pete and olivia were up to before he got him out, he doesn’t know just  _ what  _ she did to him, but he doesn’t like it at all.  _ fall,  _ he’d commanded, and fallen she had.  _ forget,  _ he had ordered, and hopefully it would work. with things involving peter always end up being so unpredictable. and olivia  _ herself  _ always acts at random whims.

(peter, unconscious, strapped to a chair. mask on: she had at least respected that. his suit is torn at his arm, just where a needle used to be; nearby, vials of his blood. 

olivia’s heartbeat against his claws. “what did you  _ do _ ,” he hisses.

“you’re not as discrete as you think,” she snarls back.)

“aaron?,” she insists. 

“when he wakes up, call me,” he says. he doesn’t leave his number; she already has it.

he heads for the door, eager to jump back into the night, but she grabs him by his claw’ metallic wrist, stare hard with determination. “he’s not going to hate it if you stay,” she says.

_ it’s like she can see into his soul _

“let go of me,” he asks. his eyes don’t twinkle, but she releases him anyway, and he leaps into the unknown.

 

(“how did i get here?,” peter groans. may pets his hair; he has the headache of the century.

“aaron brought you,” may says. “i don’t know where you were.”

peter’s expression falls. “is he here?”  _ did he see me like that? _

“he’s on his way,” may lies. 

in her pocket, her phone weighs heavy. later, when peter’s fallen asleep again, aaron finally answers. he apologizes profusely. he sounds tired.

“thank you,” she tells him, knowing. 

“i didn’t do anything,” he replies. 

“go get some rest,” is all she says.)

 

he burns down his empire. 

he trashes the place, his home, furious.

when he’s done and nothing remains, he covers his face anyway, devastated: it’s too late, anyway. 

there were one hundred and twenty seven hidden microphones in his apartment, and thirty cameras scattered throughout the walls and ceilings and books and one inside the stereo and how did he not notice? how did he think— he was so, so  _ lucky,  _ he just thought it would be okay— like the most powerful man in new york wouldn’t have a few safety checks. 

he crumbles to his knees and tries not to scream his heart out, lest anyone hear. 

 

the week peter dies is one of the worst of aaron’s life. 

first comes the guilt, an old friend, as he stands by his grave next to mary jane in silence. no amount of silent prayer, of hidden fortune, of  _ it would be lucky so lucky please don’t let that be fatal _ had managed to save him from the kingpin; aaron bitterly guesses that’s how parker luck works. he has a job to do, still, so he complies. he always does. he chases the kid. he fights the spider-people. he goes through the motions, knowing that disobedience is darkness for him and death for his people.

then he’s holding miles by the neck on the edge of aunt may’s home, and he sees the tears forming on his nephew’s eyes, and he’s not sure he knows what living in light means. 

there’s a loud bang and before he even hears it his whole body goes stiff and his brain yells  _ PLEASE DUCK  _ at him and  _ then  _ he’s pushing miles down with him, down the rooftop; miles  _ thwips  _ at the edge of the roof and they roll onto the grass, and it is then when he gasps, probably just seeing now the glimmer in aaron’s eyes for the first time in years. 

“i thought i made it up,” miles mutters, astonished. and then he tenses up again — “he’s coming!”

“your friends,” aaron says. “where are they.”

“fighting— uncle aaron, he— he’ll kill us!”

“no.” he breathes in, breathes out, clears his head from the fog of dizziness. “get your friends out. i’ll catch up with you.”

“i’m not leaving you here!”

“miles,  _ go. _ ”

he feels a just little bit guilty when his eyes twinkle, but miles begins heading away and aaron is so grateful the guilt washes away. “this isn’t the last of it!,” miles shouts.

as soon as miles and his friends retreat he catches lin and stops him. they hide against one of the outer walls of the house, and from there he spots olivia chasing after the spiders. “fisk tried to kill me,” he says. 

“i know,” lonnie replies, stiff. “he ordered us to kill  _ you _ .”

aaron realizes there’s a gun to his stomach. “lin,” he says, carefully, “don’t do this. you know that won’t work.” he notices lin examining his eyes carefully, as if in deep thought. 

“no fortune?” he hears the gun click. “that’s a mistake, you know that?”

“i know,” he says anyway. “i trust you, though.”

a moment passes in silence. every second they take it’s a second fisk gets closer to him. 

“it’s for parker,” lonnie says then, voice low. “isn’t it?”

a coin toss. a leap of faith. 

“my kid too,” aaron mutters. “i can’t— i can’t do this anymore.”

lincoln looks at him with a softness aaron didn’t think he was capable of, then moves the gun away from his torso and raises his hand to his earpiece. “max,” he says, “we’re with davis now.”

then he raises his gun and fires behind aaron. 

kingpin’s right behind him. 

“luck won’t save you now,” he hisses. 

“i might as well try anyway,” aaron replies. max drops behind them, the spider-fight forgotten. 

“ _ ¿listos? _ ”

aaron doesn’t get a moment to reply. fisk raises his gun and aims at lin, and aaron breathes in —  _ miss the hit  _ —  **bang** — and the bullets barely miss his head. aaron knows for a fact lin is bulletproof, but that doesn’t mean he  _ knows  _ what kingpin just shot at him. 

they jump into the fray, aaron feeling a bit sluggish, and the fight drags on for a while.  _ he’s stalling,  _ aaron realizes.  _ he knows i get tired.  _

_ what more does he know?  _ he looks at max, at lonnie.  _ what secrets do you have? _

thankfully it doesn’t go on too long past that. a bullet hits him on the shoulder, max stings him with poison, and that’s the end of it. 

they circle the man, and he’s suddenly aware of a figure watching over them; he glances over and sees aunt may, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe of her wrecked home. she looks pissed. if they survive this, their next challenge will be her, he thinks, jokingly. 

“this isn’t the end of it,” fisk hisses.

the gang looks at each other. lonnie snickers. 

“gay rights, motherfucker,” aaron says, and puts a bullet through the kingpin’s skull.

 

obviously, and true to willie’s words, it doesn’t end there. 

their arrival at miles’ room, unprompted, thrills his nephew and sets everyone else on edge. he doesn’t blame them: an hour earlier, they were going to  _ kill  _ them.

( _ what if he had,  _ aaron fears,  _ what if he  _ **_had_ ** —)

“i don’t trust them,” the older girl, gwen, says. her arms are crossed. for a moment, aaron considers using his powers on them, but wouldn’t that be worse in the long run? so he doesn’t. he kisses his kid’s forehead, after checking for injuries (thankfully, not many of them) and yawns.

miles frowns. “are you okay?”

“don’t worry about it, miles, i’m fine,” he quickly covers up. he looks back up at the rest of the spiders. “your priority still is the collider, right? olivia must be setting it up now. she never cared that much about fisk’s plan.”

“it is,” the peter doppelganger says (and doesn’t  _ that  _ ache terribly, seeing the man peter could’ve been standing before him while the real peter is under three feet of snow). “that’s what i wanted to talk about, miles, actually.”

the mood drops even more, if that were even possible. the small room feels so crowded. aaron watches as some of the spiders head towards the window, as if planning an escape, and miles notices too. “what’s going on?,” he says.

older peter looks at aaron for a moment before taking in a deep breath. “i don’t think you should go,” he tells him. “you’re not ready.”

“i am,” miles retorts. “i swear.”  _ he’s getting upset,  _ aaron realizes. the spiders have all left the room except them and gwen, and even lonnie and max gave them some space. 

“no, man, you’re not. you’ll be,” peter quickly adds, “but tonight it’s  _ our  _ responsibility, and if you get hurt then that’s on  _ us. _ ”

“but i have to turn off the collider! after you’re gone!”

“i’m going to stay behind, miles.”

silence settles in the room. “what?,” miles whispers then. “but you’ll—”

“i’m okay with that.”

“you’re insane. you can’t be— gwen?”

“we all agreed,” gwen says, but it’s clear she’s not too happy about that either.

“wait,” aaron cuts in, “agreed to  _ what? _ ”

and aaron has to hear a man with peter’s face say it, because life is a fucking nightmare and god hates aaron davis and pete is probably laughing at him from heaven right now. 

“i’ll disintegrate,” peter tells him, and he decidedly avoids meeting his eyes as he says those words. “and i’ll die.”

aaron stares at him. 

“you’re  _ joking _ , right?,” he says. when he gets no response he flinches. “ _ dude. _ ”

gwen shuffles uncomfortably. miles steps away from his uncle. peter still doesn’t look at him.

“someone has to stay back,” he insists. “i’m the oldest. it’s my duty.”

“shut the fuck up,” aaron replies. “i’m not letting you fucking  _ die. _ ”

“that’s not up to you.”

fuck the no powers rule.

“wouldn’t it be so lucky if you listened to me for  _ once  _ in your fucking life,” he hisses, eyes violet.

“uncle aaron!,” miles gasps. 

peter opens his lips to say something, but then pauses, does a double take, and squints at aaron. “did you just try to luck me out?”

aaron pauses then, too.  _ oh,  _ he thinks. “shit, you have parker luck too.”

“what just happened?,” gwen interrupts.

“you’re like  _ my  _ aaron,” peter realizes. he looks too much like peter. it’s uncanny and it makes aaron want to cry. so instead he just purses his lips and breathes heavily. “it doesn’t work on me, it’s— it’s a mutation.”

“i’m not letting you die, parker,” he says. “i can’t do that.”

“it doesn’t matter. i  _ have  _ to stay back.”

(there’s something in the way he says those words that unnerves aaron.)

“no, i’ll stay,” aaron strikes back. “you get home.”

“it’s too dangerous.”

“i  _ know,  _ dumbass.”

“how do we know you won’t double-cross us?,” gwen says. 

“uh,” miles stumbles.

aaron points at his nephew, clearly offended. “like i would  _ cross miles. _ ”

“but you let  _ peter _ get killed,” gwen mutters under her breath. it doesn’t matter: everyone hears. 

aaron has to lean against miles’ bed bunk just so he doesn’t fall over. 

“gwen,” peter warns her. 

“no, it’s true! miles— you said he was  _ there,  _ so he just let it happen?”

“i didn’t— he didn’t  _ do  _ that,” miles says, but even he’s unconvinced. 

(a chase down subway tunnels —  _ swipe —  _ miss.)

aaron tries to breathe. 

(peter’s golden hair, ocean eyes, blood everywhere —  _ “it won’t work. they’re gone.” —  _ willing fate unmoving, trying to change a fixed point in the timeline — he’s begging  _ babe stay, stay, stay  _ —  _ crack  _ — a voiceless scream.)

“you have no idea the  _ things  _ that i have done for peter parker,” aaron bites out, trying to mask the trembling in his voice. gwen is still clearly unconvinced.

“you’re right,” she says. “i don’t.”

“ _ stop, _ ” peter intervenes. “that’s enough.”

gwen falls silent. maybe it’s because of the way his facade seems to crack. aaron takes in a deep breath: is miles looking?  _ please,  _ he begs the stars,  _ don’t look at me,  _ and his nephew and the girl can’t meet his eyes. peter frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it; instead, he walks over and looks at aaron.

“if you want to come and help us,” he says, “you can come. but i’m staying.”

“okay,” aaron forces out. “if you say so.”

“and you’re  _ not  _ coming,” peter finishes, looking at miles.

“come on!”

 

aaron has to begrudgingly command him into staying still as peter webs him to a chair, has to see the betrayal in miles’ eyes as he realizes fate is being manipulated, but in the end, miles ends up coming anyway.

it’s surprising. it’s hours later, and they’ve snuck into the party at fisk tower; he sees tombstone speaking at the podium, and when he spots him he does a very slight nod, and aaron nods back. the spiders have gone off ahead. 

and then, he’s slammed against the bathroom wall.

it’s someone he only seen in passing (except for that one time in california, their toes in the sand, some poor dumbass’ blood on their hands as they stripped and sunk into the cold sea at night), someone he should’ve expected: it’s beck himself, in a fancy suit. “so unlike you,” aaron comments.  _ let go of me,  _ he commands, and as he feels the exhaustion weigh down on him, he feels the hand around his neck soften — only to suddenly feel a  _ prickle:  _ a glance down and he notices he’s been stabbed.  _ minor inconvenience,  _ he thinks, but he’s just so tired right now. 

“it’s been a long day, hasn’t it, davis?,” beck says. it’s not even his weird avatar thing; it’s the real deal, and he’s right in front of him. “bet your regeneration isn’t that fast right now.”

“dick move, ” aaron tells him. “you don’t want to do this.”

“no, i don’t, actually, but since you got everyone on  _ peter’s  _ side i guess i  _ have  _ to be the bad guy today.”

and then, just as quentin’s about to twist the knife deeper and deeper—

aaron  _ sees  _ something. out of the corner he spots him, right as he became visible once more:

there’s a scrawny little silhouette, almost invisible, punching beck in the face.

“what the—” another hit and beck stumbles back. the ghost becomes visible: another spider-guy, it seems. there’s something familiar about the way he moves, but he can’t quite place it down. aaron pulls the knife out of his body, breathing deeply when his body begins stitching itself back together. the guy doesn’t speak, just  _ thwips  _ quentin to the inside of a stall, locking it shut, before dragging aaron out of the restroom, barely giving him any time to cover his torn shirt by closing the buttons of his jacket. 

it’s only out there, in the desolate hallway, when it clicks.

“ _ miles? _ ”

“come on, the others are already down there!” he’s deflecting. if aaron wasn’t in a hurry and also completely exhausted miles would be in  **so** much trouble.

by the time they reach the basement, the collider is twisting in colors, bright, wonderfully terrible. the spiders are under heavy fire from olivia and her army; prowler, alongside spider-man himself, are the best backup they could have asked for.

( _ if only peter were here to see it. _ )

other peter is so proud of miles; the other spiders cheer him on as they join forces, and soon olivia is down for the moment: perfect time to wreck the place.

(aaron looks at peter, then at miles. miles looks back at him.)

“alright, who in here is a peter? sound off.” half of the spiders (yes, including the pig) raise their hands mid-fight as aaron jumps into the fray. he can’t help but sigh. he can already feel the drain in his soul as he twists the strings of fate, moving bullets out of their trails, influencing the choices of those he can and changing outcomes around those he can’t. the noir guy (a peter too, it seems, though he sounds  _ nothing  _ like his own) keeps shielding  _ him  _ from attacks, alongside the robot girl, probably just because miles made the tiniest whimper every time aaron got hit. 

soon it’s time for the spiders to go home: they reverse the collider, everything is going smoothly. miles insists he, alongside aaron, will shut down the portal. everyone says goodbye and jumps in (gwen still glares at him, suspicious, when aaron yawns).

then it’s peter’s turn, and he hesitates.

and that’s enough for olivia to come back swinging.

she stands between them and the portal, the last hurdle in peter’s way. she reaches for aaron and tosses him away without hesitation, her tentacles barely missing miles and peter.  _ shit,  _ aaron thinks, groaning as he smashes against a building. he can hear miles and peter arguing, fighting against themselves as they dodge doc ock — if this keeps up, there won’t be enough time—

“close the portal,” peter shouts, “i’ll distract her, you blow this whole thing up!”

“peter, that wasn’t the deal!” a tentacle shoots towards miles and aaron feels the fatigue catching up to him when it misses by barely an inch. miles whips his head towards him and their eyes meet.

_ stop him,  _ aaron mouths, and miles’ eyes widen.

aaron stands up on the glass surface of the building, looks at olivia, gathers his strengths and shouts, “ _ face me! _ ”

he knows he can’t beat her, not like this. but he needs to buy miles some time. so when his eyes gleam and olivia turns to him, he just readies himself. she leaps towards him and he tries to stay conscious: his claws buzz alive and the fight begins, one last time.

he quickly realizes he’s no match for her. but he hears peter let go, and he hears miles thwip closer and closer as he fades away, and maybe he doesn’t  _ need  _ to match her strength.

_ it would be nice if miles won,  _ he asks the stars, and that’s just enough to make him pass out.

 

miles tells him what happened next as he’s waking up, atop a building not too far away from the wreckage of fisk tower. he’s never felt this tired before, but he  _ did  _ push himself too far, so he doesn’t think too much about it. miles fought her and won! and then blew up the collider. sounds easy enough. aaron doesn’t think that’s the whole story, but… okay.

(later, aaron will find out how scrawny little spider-man got crushed by the kingpin. later, aaron will discover how his ribs bruised and splintered, how everything fell apart so swiftly after that.)

olivia’s being pushed into a police car when they descend from the skyscraper. no one knows where lonnie and max ended up; aaron isn’t too worried. it’s  _ them,  _ they know how to take care of themselves (but quietly his eyes shine —  _ good luck _ , even through the exhaustion). the cops are in high alert when they see prowler, but miles is a literal godsend and tells them he’s okay. aaron sees jeff, and jeff looks at him, and something in his eyes makes aaron stop dead in his tracks.

“oh, um,” miles says, sheepish, “he might’ve seen, uh, your face? down there?”

no amount of fortune can prevent the conversation that awaits him. but aaron just looks down at miles and asks, voice low, “did he see  _ yours? _ ”

he’s relieved when miles shakes his head.

“we need to talk,” jeff tells him, stern. he’s clearly drained, shaken, but honestly, aaron can’t bring himself to care enough right now. 

“later,” he replies. “can’t right now. tired.”

jeff seems to drop it. and as he talks to miles instead, aaron yawns. mj is standing nearby, looking absolutely wrecked. he walks over to her, trying not to stumble.

what a day.

 

they’re walking home, arms brushing against each other, when miles says, “ _ did  _ you let him die?”

far away, aaron can hear the deafening sound of police sirens. closer, he can hear miles’ heartbeat, the hesitation in his voice.

“i tried to stop him,” aaron says, and the exhaustion starts feeling unrelated to the abuse of his powers. “but he never did listen to me.”

“oh.”

“i never— he was a very stubborn person.” he feels peter’s soft hands within his palm, hears the ghost of a laughter, and he tries to remain strong. “it was complicated, miles. by that point he either killed fisk or fisk killed him, and pete, he… he’d never hurt anyone if he could help it.”

they’re quiet then, for a while. the soles of miles’ suit scrape against the concrete. aaron walks him one block off of visions and pats his shoulder. “well,” he says. “see you later, kid.”

“yeah,” miles says. “goodnight, uncle aaron.”

aaron doesn’t say anything else, but as he begins to turn, a knot forming on his throat, he feels the kid’s arms wrap themselves around him. “love you,” miles says against his cape.

aaron pretends he’s not crying on the lonely way back home.

 

ever since he can remember, aaron’s always been a bit too lucky. 

he’s got a great nephew. he’s fixing things with his brother, too, and he’s a superhero now (okay, he’s  _ working _ on that one). things could be worse. he could have died. his kid could’ve. (he could have killed his nephew).

he has the dreaded talk with jeff. miles comes clean to him, too. jeff and rio are, understandably, at a loss, but he slides them may’s phone number and hopes for the best. may isn’t too amused, but they have tea, sometimes. 

he patrols alongside miles, now. lonnie and max always pull their punches against them. liv hasn’t shown her face around in a while. the spiders come visit sometimes. 

(he and other peter get drunk together, sometimes. they don’t say more than they have to. peter’s back with his wife — it’s mary jane, that’s insane. 

“i had someone like you,” peter says, one time. they don’t look at each other. “an aaron.”

“and?”

“took a bullet for me.” parker shrugs. “we were… young, i guess.” he takes a gulp of his beer and breathes.

aaron doesn’t comment.) 

he fixes things with mj. he tries to move on. it’s not always easy. it’s never easy, actually.  he misses him so much.

but all things considered, things had kinda worked out, hadn’t them?

all things considered, he’s just too lucky for it to be true.


End file.
